


The Touch of a Siphon: Part 2 of "The Sky's Altar Aflame"

by Cyra (lc_144725)



Series: The Sky's Altar Aflame [2]
Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: Aracelis, Blood, Siphon, The Sky's Altar Aflame, Touch, Vampirism, hunger, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:36:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lc_144725/pseuds/Cyra
Summary: Aidan, hungry and slipping, shows up counting on the one thing he knows for sure about Aracelis: she'll always help him; she'll always save him. But he wants to know more. He'll settle, this once, for the answer to one question. Just one.





	The Touch of a Siphon: Part 2 of "The Sky's Altar Aflame"

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I have made (and will make) no promises that this series will be linear, keep up with continuity, seem like they’re meant to be in the same storyline, or generally make sense (individually or together). I write these as they come to me regardless of any bits of the series contradicting or supporting them. I MIGHT go back in later, once the series is completed, and fix all of that. For now, however, it’s vital for anyone reading to understand that I’m writing this for me and no one else; I’m sharing it simply because I can. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!

     “ _Why does the hunger just disappear whenever we touch_?” The unasked question hung in the air heavy enough to stifle breath.

     He’d arrived frantic and twitching. Even without our connection I knew the cause the moment I saw him. But through it I could feel. I felt the desire, the urges clawing up from that deep, dark place we always try to bury. I smelled liquid life in the veins of those he spared with every second he fought himself. I could hear heartbeats, a simple but constant movement supplying the vitality they all took for granted. I could see red of it rise to their cheeks from the winter’s silver. Worst of all I could _taste it_ , the phantom essence of _blood_ dancing sharply over my tongue, metallic but sweet and oh so alluring. It made me salivate.

     But then our skin touched and the famine faded. Now he was calmer, even more than usual if that was possible, like he was readying himself for sleep. _Relaxed,_ I realized, instantly and, selfishly glad, my mind repeated: _he’s relaxed._ I couldn’t be, though. Not with him here, not with skin as cold as the snow it resembled sending sparks across mine wherever I was lucky enough to feel his.

     “Aidan, what are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to-”

     “I know; I know, but I had to. I was close by and it all came rushing back and I could feel myself losing control,” he said, desperate intensity claiming the start of his answer, but his voice softening as fear crept in. My mind chimed in again: _fear of himself_. For a moment, I imagined him not needing that control, that self-loathing I so wished he didn’t possess. I imagined him content and sated on the blood I knew was meant to sustain him. I didn’t allow myself this fantasy for longer than the instant it intruded on my thoughts. I knew I couldn’t. It would make it that much easier to lose myself in what I wish could be as opposed to reality.

     “Okay, okay…” I nodded, just wanting him to feel safe and unburdened by his worry. “It’s alright. Can you sit for just a moment? My blood supply is in the fridge.” The moment his hands slipped from my wrists and my hands no longer warmed his face, the _need_ returned. He tried to hide it and, though I gave up long ago on trying to understand why Aidan hid even from me, I thought his body language and his eyes to be quite the oxymoron: one a façade of calm if you discount the flex of the occasional muscle rolling beneath his skin or the swallows of impatience, but the other full of uncertainty and a childlike craving for comfort he’d never ask for, the latter of which he was attempting to mask with determination to get through the next few moments of waiting.

     A blood bag and a half later, he shined a spotlight over an elephant in the room.

     “I think I have a right to know,” he added to the end of the question. I sighed, able to breathe again albeit shakily, and reached over to wipe a drop of blood from the side of his mouth. He stilled at the action.

     “You do. You do deserve to know. After all, it affects you,” I scoffed dryly, “What I am, it’s… it’s complicated. You know I’m not a vampire, not a werewolf, and not a human.”

     “That only leaves, what, a witch?”

     “No. Not quite. Witches are human. They came from my kind, though, like all other supernatural creatures. Except maybe ghosts…” I trailed off slightly, the flames of the fireplace dancing over my vision. I shook my head. I was slightly heady from his sudden revitalization so my digression wasn’t entirely out of the blue. Feeling his gaze on me snapped me back into reality. I hadn’t answered his question, only revealed irrelevant information.

     “We couldn’t have come from one being. That’s- that’s-”

     “Impossible? Humans ultimately originated from a single-celled organism. That’s not the point, though; what I was trying to say is that I’m unlike anything you’ve come across. Siphons are… the personification of nature and pure vitality. As a vampire, you… you have none of your own,” I said softly, reluctant to reveal so much. I was a hypocrite, disapproving of his attempts to hide from me whilst I persistently kept myself from him.

     “Because we’re dead. But humans have vitality too and I’ve never heard of a vampire who could just touch a human instead of feeding.” His voice was soft too as if he was talking to an animal backed into a corner, soothing, coaxing, deceptively docile. For some reason, this mildly irritated me. My answer was said in a voice of certainty without the weakness I’d shown before in all my hesitation.

     “The life of a human is found most notably in its liquid manifestation: blood, which why you feed off it. Siphons, however, are practically made of that energy; our bodies can barely contain it. When there’s several times as much power in one drop of our blood than the entirety of a human body, it doesn’t seem so unreasonable: vampire sated by as little as a touch,” I explained, having turned to face him. Caramel eyes widened fractionally, due to awe or appetite I couldn’t discern.

     “Your blood,” he muttered, mostly to himself despite maintaining eye contact with me.

     “What of it?” My gaze returned to the fire, watching flames struggle to reach their peaks, yearning to devour more than the air it could touch. That was how the whole world worked, devouring other parts of itself and waiting for the revolt in its gut. All of it in the name of endless civil war, a dalliance, an exchange of strength heedless of its own self-destruction beckoning on the horizon.

     “Every time I’ve fed, really fed, from you, I didn’t need blood for- for days, sometimes even weeks. Aracelis do you know what this means, the things you could do, the vampires who would be after you if they knew,” his speech began to hasten so I quieted him with a wave of my hands and a nod of my head.

     “I’m _very_ well aware of the risks and benefits of what I am, Aidan, you don’t need to explain it to me,” I smiled gently. A barely-there laugh that sounded more like a sigh was all that prefaced the comfortable silence we fell into, little noise but the crackling of fire as long as we didn’t try to hear, with the senses that separated us from people, senses that drew us closer to each other. I knew it was getting out of hand. Though for now he only came to me out of need for blood, the desperation not to kill, he was staying beyond satiation. Not to mention the fact that he had to be near me initially, _knowingly_. For now it was stolen smiles and averted stares between flicks of flame, but what would it blossom into? This pull we both knew was there, but only one knew could never be acted on, wasn’t something I wanted to make even harder to resist. In hindsight, I should’ve realized there was never any hope. I should’ve known the first time I allowed him in my presence while he was coherent.

     Nothing lay in the future for us but pain and yet it I found the mere idea of stopping too agonizing to even ponder.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoys their day. Have fun; don’t die; make new friends; don’t talk to strangers!


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